


Call Me By Your Simon

by scarletbegonias37



Series: Call Me By Your Love [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Love Simon (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Ridiculousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 08:56:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletbegonias37/pseuds/scarletbegonias37
Summary: The LOVE, SIMON/CALL ME BY YOUR NAME au crossover that absolutely no one requested, wanted, or needed, but which I wrote anyway because it made me laugh.Bram and Elio are roommates. Bram likes Elio. Simon does not.





	Call Me By Your Simon

_Elio Perlman_. Simon was starting to hate the name. It sounded like the name of an opera. Leave it to this guy to even have a _name_ that sounded like music.

Simon had managed to finagle a single dorm room at NYU, probably due to his mother putting heavy pressure on the university about how he’d been bullied and outed in high school and probably wouldn’t be comfortable with a straight male roommate. So at least they had somewhere private to hook up when Bram didn’t have early classes the next day. But honestly, what were the odds that based on a simple questionnaire about interests and values, Bram would be assigned a gay roommate? And if his roommate had to be gay, could he not have been hideous, stupid, an awkward dweeb? Did he have to be pretty, intelligent, rich, European, AND cool in a way Simon would never be?

He couldn’t be all that much more of a genius than Simon’s brilliant boyfriend. But Bram acted like the guy was some kind of superhuman. Bram had tested out of most of the basic freshman course requirements at Columbia, and proceeded directly to 200-level work in some areas. Elio had tested out of all of them, apparently with perfect scores on some tests, and Bram described with awe how the whole evaluation committee had hemmed and hawed for several minutes over Elio’s transcripts, uncertain how to even deal with some of his unusual credits. He had done an internship with one of the most famous music historians in Europe and transcribed a number of previously unpublished works by some famous ancient Russian composer whose name Simon couldn’t even pronounce. What kind of 18-year-old had that resume?

Simon wouldn’t have cared if Bram didn’t seem so impressed. Ugh. _Well, Bram. I may not be a genius, but I can…recite every Elliott Smith lyric by heart. Can that pretentious Euro-twerp do that?_

Elio wasn’t Simon’s type, but he also had to admit with a sinking feeling that he was very good-looking if you liked that kind of thing. Super tall, lanky, fine-boned, pale, pouty lips, messy curly hair. Oh god, did Bram like that kind of thing?

At least Bram seemed like he didn’t notice Simon’s churning jealousy. Probably because he hadn’t really done anything to provoke it. He was just being the genuine nice guy that he was, offering deserved praise to someone who was extraordinarily talented and intelligent, and who maybe was a little lonely being in a strange new country where he knew no one.

Simon didn’t want Elio to like, die or anything, but would it be so terrible if he maybe got so homesick he went immediately back to one of his family's picture-perfect mansions in Italy (Simon had seen the pictures; the Spiers' house was pretty big and it could have fit entirely inside one wing of their _summer home_ , for heck's sake) and decided he hated America and everyone in it, especially anyone with skin like delicious milk chocolate and big dark gorgeous eyes and the cutest dimples and the sweetest smile anyone had ever seen in their life?

He was kidding himself. Elio was always sort of aloof and never seemed like he was hitting on Bram, but he was also extremely forthright – blunt, really -- in his observations, and he obviously had observed accurately that Bram was a goddamn piece of art.

"The two of you are very attractive. Is jealousy an issue in your relationship? I imagine you both must be approached by other men a lot." Elio had asked this idly, on one of their very first times hanging out at some boring fancy Columbia frat party, like it wasn't even an intrusive or forward question. Simon had nearly choked on his drink. Is this how people talked in Italy?! Elio must have mistaken his look of shock for disdain, because he added casually, “Oh, or is it an open relationship? That’s very sophisticated of you, for Americans.”

“It is most certainly NOT an open relationship,” Simon sputtered, looking down into his cup. It was two-thirds full. “My drink’s getting low. Catch you later.” Elio gave him a sudden sharp look, a little mean, when he said the last sentence. God, the guy was an asshole. He was mad about a simple goodbye after he’d been so rude? Simon avoided him for the rest of the evening.

***

Ugh! He was just so COOL. He leaned against the Columbia buildings, one long leg tucked up with his foot flat against the wall, wearing designer aviator sunglasses and smoking long black French cigarettes that cost, like, $20 a pack. He’d picked up a coterie of pretty, popular girls who fluttered around him like moths drawn to a flame, all of them matching him in their slouch and pouty faces. He said “whatever” a lot. He spoke three languages fluently and could carry on a conversation in a half-dozen more. He played two instruments at a professional level and could pick up almost any other one and make a tune come out of it after fiddling around for a few minutes. Any book a person mentioned, he’d already read. He was driving Simon crazy.

The worst part was that Bram seemed to think Elio was an ideal roommate. He was even more quiet and studious than Bram. He was neat and orderly. He only listened to classic music or jazz or soft indie rock, all of which Bram considered perfect white noise for studying or sleeping. He thought hooking up in the dorms was “gauche”, so Bram never had to come home to a sock on the doorknob. He wasn’t fussy about the windows being open or the temperature, so they never disagreed on the thermostat setting. “Americans are too intent on controlling the weather,” he declared. “It’s a waste of resources.” Unfortunately for Simon, this meant he had a disturbing habit of sitting around in nothing but a bathing suit on hot days. The sight of Elio’s pale skinny chest was starting to be more familiar to him than his own.

The only thing that Bram found disturbing about him is that apparently his family was so super rich that he didn’t know how to perform basic functions that common people did. Bram had to show him how to do laundry – trying very kindly not to laugh – when Elio asked if the “dormitory maid” would come and pick it up.

“He’s traveled all over the world and he’s never done a load of laundry,” Bram shook his head and took another bite of pizza. “Can you believe it?” They were having a little dinner date downtown, pausing between bites of slices to smooch occasionally. It was so great to finally live in a city where two guys kissing didn’t even make anyone bat an eye.

“At least there’s something he can’t do,” Simon muttered under his breath.

“I know I shouldn’t feel sorry for someone whose parents gave him an AmEx Black Card, but I don’t think they prepared him very well for life on his own,” Bram grimaced, concern washing over his face. “His mom is like a countess or something. He said ‘just a minor one’, but what does that even mean? And they have a household staff. That’s what he called them, but I think he meant actual servants.”

“Gross,” Simon wrinkled his nose.

“I took him grocery shopping and you should have seen him. He was so excited, running around the store like a little kid. I don’t think he’s ever even shopped for himself.”

“Well, it’s nice of you to try to help him out,” Simon said, justifying the fact that he was refraining from screaming LET LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY DO HIS OWN ERRANDS by telling himself that it was not a dishonest thing to say. Bram _was_ nice. Bram was always nice. He leaned over for another kiss and this time held it longer, opening Bram’s lips and letting his tongue graze along Bram’s own. He couldn’t think of a better way to change the subject.

***

Damn it! Simon hadn’t timed it right. He’d waited across the street for ten minutes, slowly drinking a soda, but it hadn’t been long enough.

“Oh, hi, Simon,” Elio said sleepily, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Bram’s not back from soccer practice yet. Come on in, he should be back soon.”

“Uhm…” Simon hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other and readjusting his backpack. “That’s cool. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just go wait in the common room.” He started off down the hall, but Elio’s voice was so plaintive calling after him that he had to turn around.

“Simon…” Elio paused, biting his lip. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Simon replied, surprised. “Of course not. I was just…” He trailed off. Hoping to avoid you as much as possible and then somehow convince Bram to request a new roommate next year? He wasn’t mean enough to say that, even if he guiltily admitted to himself that it was what he’d been thinking.

“It just seems like you don’t like me, and you were so friendly when we met,” Elio looked like he was about to cry. Simon’s heart sank into his shoes. He’d never meant to hurt Elio’s feelings; he didn’t even think he was sensitive like this. “You’re so friendly to everyone. I must have offended you. I just don’t know what I did.”

Simon wanted to sink through the floor. “You didn’t do anything, I promise. It’s just…can I come inside, actually?” Elio nodded, and gestured for him to step inside of the room, closing the door behind him. Simon took a deep breath and placed his backpack on Bram’s desk chair. “I don’t know how to say this,” he began slowly. “It’s just that, well…I spent so much time worrying about how weird it might be if Bram had a straight roommate that I didn’t consider that it might be more awkward if his roommate was gay.”

Elio looked confused for a minute before understanding dawned in his eyes. “Oh! Oh my god, Simon. That didn’t even occur to me. I have to tell you, you NEVER have to worry about that. First of all, you’re all Bram talks about. And I mean ALL. Other than his studies, or soccer, and sometimes his family. It’s Simon this, Simon that. He doesn’t even look at other guys. Ever.”

Simon relaxed, and felt a smile starting to play on his lips. He couldn’t stay mad, thinking about Bram. “That’s good to know,” he said cautiously.

“Also, don’t take this the wrong way, because like I said, Bram is very attractive. But so are you; I said that because you make a striking couple. But he’s not my type. I like guys that are a little more aloof and mysterious, and he’s like an open book, you know? Also,” Elio added in a confiding tone, “I like…well, guys that are a little older. And taller than me, if I can find them. Not that that’s easy,” he concluded, gesturing at his own 6’1” frame.

Simon breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, I feel like a real asshole. I hope you don’t take it personally. I’m just an idiot, I guess.”

Elio shook his head firmly. “You’re not an idiot at all. I’m just not very intuitive. My parents are always telling me I have to try to pay a little more attention to other people and I’d have better friendships.” He looked down at his feet. “That’s the thing. I don’t have a lot of friends – not anyone in America yet, really. I really miss my best friend Marzia, but she’s at the Sorbonne and we can barely even find time to Skype because of the time zones. And you and Bram are so nice. He’s the only intelligent freshman I’ve met here, and I was thinking how great it would be if I finally had some guy friends, but I figured if you hated me then it wasn’t going to happen.”

“Oh, god, Elio, I’m so sorry,” Simon cringed. “I’ve been such a jerk. Please, please forgive me.”

Elio brightened up a little. “Of course I will,” he said. “I completely understand. I’ve been jealous of you guys too, in a way. You’re so lucky, to have found what you have. And you both make friends so easily. I just don’t have the knack.”

“People just think you’re too cool,” Simon insisted. “They don’t know how to approach you. Maybe…I don’t mean to offend you, but maybe try smiling sometimes?”

“Smiling,” Elio said thoughtfully, like he’d never heard of it.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Simon shrugged. “Also, you don’t seem to notice when guys are hitting on you. I saw that lacrosse player at the party last weekend eying you all night, but when he came up to you, you walked away.”

Elio looked nervous, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “Actually…well. I’m kind of not available right now. Or maybe I am. I guess I completely am. I just don’t…feel available.”

“It sounds like there’s a story behind that,” Simon said, curious.

“Well, there’s this grad student. We were hooking up…or at least, we used to, back in Italy, when he did an internship with my dad. But it kind of feels like I dreamed it now, because he avoids me. I don’t think he’s ever going to come out,” Elio confessed, looking miserable. “He’s engaged…to a woman.”

“Wow,” Simon exclaimed. “Is he bi or just super closeted and bearding it up?”

“I don’t know,” Elio responded helplessly. “Does it matter either way if he won’t come out?” He flopped down backwards onto his bed dramatically. “He doesn’t have a beard though. His face is too beautiful to hide.”

Simon giggled. “That’s not what I meant by beard. It’s American slang…listen, we have so much to teach you. And no offense, because nobody knows more than me how hard it can be to come out, but this guy sounds like a loser. We are going to find you someone way better. There’s a lot of hot guys at Columbia. And tall ones. Although if you let this whole idea of a type go, it’ll be easier.”

“Really?” Elio asked, looking genuinely pleased that Simon was being kind to him.

“Yeah, definitely. I mean, obviously, I have a type now, and it’s Bram and nobody but Bram. But before we got together, I had crushes on all kinds of people. It’s way more fun that way,” Simon smiled.

“Maybe you’re right,” Elio said, pondering.

“Okay, what socials are you on?” Simon asked, getting out his phone. “And I don’t mean Grindr, nobody finds anyone good on there. I’m talking Facebook, Snapchat, Insta. Let’s stalk all the cute guys in the senior class. I know you said older, but honestly, you might want to consider dropping the age limit a little. I think actual relationships are more sustainable when there’s not so much of an age gap.”

“You definitely have more experience than me about that,” Elio shrugged. “I’m certainly willing to consider your advice. But I don’t have any social media.”

“WHAT?!?” Simon blurted, shocked. “Jeez, Elio, no wonder you feel isolated. Social media is where all baby gays go to find company and comfort! 95% of social media is just everyone rejoicing together about how we’re all totally gay.”

“Is that an actual statistic?” Elio said doubtfully.

Simon laughed. “Yes. It’s pure science. Listen, we are going to set you up with a Facebook and a Tumblr. You’ll love Tumblr. It’s all art and people ranting about sociopolitics. It’s great. And then, we are going to find you like, six tall dark mysterious guys to date. There’s ten million people in this city, it’ll be easy. Oh!” his eyes lit up. “I have an idea! We need to find you a guy in a band! Some supercool music prodigy that you can talk music prodigy stuff with. Have you even been out on the music scene here? It’s AMAZING.”

“No, I didn’t have anyone to go with and I don’t know where to go yet. But I’d love to, if you and Bram will come with me,” Elio offered shyly. “I don’t know much about modern music. Although I like Sufjan Stevens.”

“I loooove Sufjan too, that’s a great start. He’s so perfect for staring out the window and feeling sad and soft and gay.” Simon paused, then decided to ask the question that would cement their bond or keep them at arm’s length forever. “If you like older music…how do you feel about Elliott Smith?”

“Elliott Smith was a genius,” Elio said earnestly. “His death was a tragic loss to music. Do you like Nick Cave? Or Jeff Buckley?”

Simon reached over and squeezed Elio’s arm gently. “Elio, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

***

Bram laughed and laughed when Simon confessed to him later that he’d been jealous and confronted Elio. “Oh my god, Simon. Are you kidding? Obviously, I only have eyes for you, for one thing,” he said, smooching Simon lightly before returning back to folding his clothes and putting them away. “But also, Elio isn’t my type at ALL. He’s like, sad and sulky and model-pretty. I don’t like pretty guys. I like cute guys,” he declared emphatically.

“Really?” Simon asked, tentatively.

“Uh, YEAH. Have you not noticed the common theme in all my celebrity crushes? Jonathan Groff? Jussie Smollett? Zac Efron in High School Musical but NOT current ripped Zac Efron? I like cute guys with big cute eyes and cute round butts,” Bram insisted, reaching over to pat Simon’s own rather round posterior.

“Oh yeah?” Simon put his hands on his hips. “What about Jon Snow?”

“Jon Snow is exactly who taught me that I don’t like sad sulky pretty guys. You saw how he betrayed Ygritte! Robb Stark never would have done that. He stuck by the woman he loved unto DEATH! He should still be the King in the North!” Bram was getting heated now. Simon loved it when he nerded out.

“Wait, is Robb Stark pretty or cute?” he asked, confused.

“Robb Stark is pretty AND cute,” Bram smiled, winking. “Best kind. He was cuter in that live action Cinderella, too.”

Simon gasped. “Bram, are you, my usually perfect boyfriend, telling me that you watched a Disney princess movie WITHOUT ME?!?”

“Sorry, babe,” Bram said apologetically. “It was on when I was flipping channels, and Elio got all excited and wanted to watch it because it’s a story he knows. He hasn’t seen like, ANY movies. His parents don’t even have a single TV in that big-ass house. And he said the one in their summer home only gets one channel and it only plays news and weird Italian music videos. Isn’t that the saddest thing you’ve ever heard in your life?”

“It is,” Simon agreed.

“Anyway, I’ll watch it again,” Bram shrugged. “You’ll like it. It’s got Cate Blanchett and Helena Bonham Carter, and when the fairy godmother fixes Cinderella’s dress she just twirls in the air for like five minutes, feeling her own vibe. It’s the gayest thing ever.”

“I’ll show you the gayest thing ever,” Simon giggled, and toppled Bram onto his dorm bed, knocking all his carefully folded piles of laundry to the floor as he kissed and kissed his hilarious, kind, thoughtful boyfriend, over and over again. He only liked cute guys too, he realized.

“Just one thing, though,” Simon paused, nearly breathless. “Do you think you can get him to at least put a tank top on when he’s just hanging around in his bathing suit?”

Bram laughed. “Yeah, I was trying to think of how I could bring that up. I didn’t want to like, body-shame him, but his nipples are starting to burn themselves into my brain. I’ll just blame it on you,” he smiled, and went back to kissing Simon.

They’d have to make this a relatively quick one. Simon had a new friend, and they had a concert to go to at 8, and he had wingman duties to perform. Good thing pogo-dancing made it easy to look for really, really tall guys.  
  
THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please don’t run me out of the fandoms, lol.


End file.
